


The Last Roundup

by 4everTheValley



Category: The Big Valley
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:33:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26906686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4everTheValley/pseuds/4everTheValley
Summary: A young man has to persuade the boss to make him a new hire.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	The Last Roundup

It was near noon when the kid reined his horse to a stop near the chuck wagon and looked around.

“Where do I find the boss?”

The ranch foreman looked him over and then catching the eye of the man he was looking for, and seeing the confirmation there, asked, “What might ya be wantin’ with him?”

“Was told in town ya was lookin’ fer hands.”

“Ta do what?”

“Whatever needs doin’,” and glancing around, he added, “looks like right now that might be roundin’ up cattle.”

Deciding it was time to put an end to this, the boss stepped forward.

“Sorry kid. I hire men, not boys. You’re lookin’ to be a few years short of that.”

The kid slowly, deliberately, eased out of the saddle and down to stand beside the horse he was riding. He stepped forward, letting the reins trail to the ground, and offering his hand, he proffered a shake strong and firm enough to surprise the older man. “I’m lookin’ fer work.”

“And what brings you lookin’ here?”

“Hunger,” he drawled. “And ma horse needs new shoes. If I have access ta the where-with-all I can do the job maself, just need ta earn the price o’ the shoes.”

The kid had noticed the young cowboy eyeing his horse, checking both sides.

“Pretty fine lookin’ piece o’ horse-flesh to not be carryin’ a brand,” he stated as he glanced at the boss. “How come?”

To the kid it sounded more like a challenge than idle curiosity. He decided to ignore it and play along.

“Don’t have one ta put on him. And don’t much think he’d 'preciate me doin’ so.”

“Means anyone can walk off with him, and there’d be nothin’ you could do about it.” As he said it the young cowboy moved to the front of the horse and casually picked up the reins.

At a nod from the kid, the horse suddenly moved forward, catching the young man with his shoulder, knocking him off balance, and driving him to the ground before steppin’ over him, enclosing him between the four solid—now menacing-looking—legs.

Realizing what had just happened, the boss’s face gave a flicker of surprise and then amusement. Turning his attention back to the kid he offered, “Well, as I said, I don’t hire boys, but no one gets sent off this spread hungry either. There’s plenty at the chuck wagon, help yourself.”

“I’m mighty obliged sir, and I 'preciate yer offer, but I don’t take charity.” He appeared to be considering things for a moment before speaking up again.

“Seems like ya got yer rules and ya stick ta ’em. But, ya know. This here horse o’ mine is no boy. Maybe ya’d consider hirin’ him? Whatever it is ya might want done with these here beeves, I guarantee ya he could do it. Course, he wouldn’t expect ya ta take my word on that, he’d be more’n willin’ ta show ya. A trial run, so ta speak—maybe rest o’ today, and all the next. He’d be willin’ ta throw me in fer free. All he’d be askin’ in return would be fixin’s fer both o’ us. If ya like what ya see, then he’d be willin’ ta work fer whatever ya pay yer other men.” He met the boss’s gaze, and held it—comfortably. And waited.

Realizing he’d been out maneuvered, out-foxed, and generally bested, the boss was nonetheless impressed. He’d not been tricked, and he sensed no disrespect. Chuckling to himself, he turned to his foreman with his decision.

“Well, we’ve bought more than enough horses, rented a few on occasion, but I guess this is the first time we’ve considered puttin' one on the payroll. Let’s give him a chance to see what he can do. Let me know what you think at the end of tomorrow.”

Turning back to the kid he suggested he get himself something to eat and then get his orders from the foreman. He was surprised at the kid’s response.

“We don’t take it ’til we’ve earned it.”

Turning to his horse, he let out a quiet whistle. The horse immediately stepped over the body he’d been straddling, without so much as brushing a shoe-worn hoof against any piece of dusty clothing, and ambled over to where his rider now was standing. In a smooth, effortless move, the kid was on his back and waiting for orders from the foreman.

Shaking his head the boss stepped over to give the young cowboy a hand up out of the dirt, then a slap on the back. He shook his head a couple more times, chuckled again, and headed back to work.

As ordered, the foreman watched the two work that afternoon and by the evening knew they’d be hiring the kid—or at least they’d be hiring the horse. He spoke to the boss, letting him know they didn’t need any more time to make the decision. The boss found the kid and told him the horse was hired, whereupon the kid refused. A deal was a deal and they’d agreed to work for their keep through the next day. The older man shook his head. How someone so seemingly reasonable and pleasant could be so cursed stubborn was beyond his understanding. 

_You’d think he was one of mine._

He told the cook to make sure the kid got generous helpings, at which point he was advised that the cook suspected the kid hadn’t eaten much in a long while—and it wasn’t likely the first time—he seemed to know enough to keep the portions small. He’d guessed the kid’d need time for his stomach to adjust to three meals a day of real food. Apparently he’d been harvesting lambs quarters and wild berries—the occasional fish where he could find water that would yield any. The kid had told him, with all the activity on this and neighbouring ranches, the rabbits didn’t seem inclined to venture out of their holes long enough to find one of his snares.

And now, these few weeks out, the kid seemed to be eating well, and showing the effects. No doubt he still had some growing to do, some filling out, but at least he no longer looked quite as gaunt. The foreman had noticed and as he pulled up his horse atop the knoll he realized the thought gave him a good feeling.

Sitting his horse at a good vantage point he peered across the mass of moving cattle trying to pick out a certain hand on the other side. Finally locating him among the billowing dust, he watched as the kid worked the herd. Reaffirming what he’d been seeing all week he determined it was time to get the boss to come take a look. _Best get him up here this afternoon. He needs ta see this—decide what he wants ta do about it._

That afternoon, as planned, the boss did indeed sit, unseen, watching the kid work. And marveled. He wasn’t riding his own horse, he had one from the remuda—one that had recently been broken in anticipation of the upcoming drive. The kid was training her, working her with the steer that had recently broken free, and which he was bringing back to the herd.

“Am I seein’ what I think I’m seein’?” He looked over at his foreman.

“I think so. Been seein’ it all week. He takes out one o’ the green mounts in the mornin’ and a different one after lunch. Every time one o’ them ornery critters cuts loose he goes after it and plays with it a bit, getting’ the horse ta do what he wants. And somehow he does it while keepin’ his part o’ the herd goin’ where they’s supposed ta go. And by the end o’ the time he’s got them horses cuttin’ and turnin’ cows like they’s been doin’ it fer years."

He paused for a moment, wondering at the thought, before sharing it. "It’s like they’re wantin’ ta show him how good they can do it.”

“The kid’s got a gift.” It wasn’t really a question, although his foreman answered it as such.

“Seems ta be.” He glanced at the boss, asking, “Maybe we should pull him off the herd and put him down at the corrals?”

“Maybe. I’ll think on it.” 

_Damn. I hadn’t even wanted to hire the little bastard. He keeps messin’ with my plans. Shoot, he messes with my head—and he doesn’t say a word doin’ it. And what the Hell do I mean, I’ll think on it. I’d have to be some kind of idiot to leave that sort of talent workin’ the herd._

The foreman found him at chow time and let him know he was now assigned to the corrals.

A few days later, in the waning light of the day, the boss’s son had come upon the kid brushing his horse.

“Kinda late to be doin’ that, don’t you think?”

“Don’t much matter the time. Ya take yer horse out fer a run, ya better expect ta take care o’ him when ya git back.” He had come to discover that the young cowboy his horse had taken down that first day, happened to be the boss’s son.

“Our smithy says you put new shoes on him yourself. Don’t think our blacksmith is good enough?” Somehow this kid rankled him.

The kid heard the tone and once again chose to ignore it. _Get yer amusement where ya can._ “Not at all. Actually he’s too good fer this horse.”

He waited. He’d been places that had taught him patience of one sort, and with people who’d taught him another. He could ride that one whichever way it might twist or turn. And, he’d seen enough of the young man to know he’d not have to wait that long before the explosion came.

“WHAT THE HELL YA MEAN? HE’S TOO GOOD? HOW CAN HE BE TOO GOOD?”

“This horse don’t much like other people messin’ with him.” He looked over at this person who was intent on ruining a nice quiet evening. “As ya well know.” He paused a moment before continuing, “Don’t figure there’s any need ta risk havin’ him do any harm ta a damn good blacksmith, just on account o’ he don’t happen ta like strangers messin’ with him. Figured I could just as well take care o’ it maself. That a problem for you—or the boss?”

The young man blew out the air he’d taken in. “Nah, not a problem. Look, I’m sorry. Alright? Sometimes I come on a little strong. Didn’t mean to accuse you of nothin’. Can we bury the thing?”

“Sure.” _No need, or profit, in gettin’ on the wrong side of the boss’s son. Guess it mighta helped if ya’d known who he was from the start._

“How’d you come to get this guy?”

“Needed a horse 'while back and didn’t have one. Didn’t have the money ta buy one. So, I cut him out o’ a herd o’ wild ones. Took a bit but we got so’s we developed an understandin’ with each other. I look out fer him, he looks out fer me.”

“How’d you learn to work with them like you do. Been watching the last few days. Never seen anyone else break horses that way.”

“Been workin’ with horses in the town livery far back as I can remember. And later, some Indians learned me—at least in part. They tol’ me I already had the gift. Also helped me ta understand if ya want a horse that’ll work with ya then ya teach him that’s what ya want. Iffn ya want a broken horse, then ya just go ahead and break ’im.”

_Better shut this down ’fer I end up sayin’ more’n I want ta._

“Well, mornin’ comes early. Best be getting’ some sleep. See ya.” He purposely walked away, taking his horse with him, and making sure he didn’t look back. He could feel the eyes boring in his back—not exactly dangerous, but not friendly either. _Ah well, I’m sure he’s got other things ta think on and he’ll ferget about me soon enough._

Couple of evenings later the kid was visiting the bunkhouse, watching the poker game in progress. He’d declined the offer of a bunk the first night, finding himself a comfortable spot down among a copse of trees—far enough away to be out of earshot. Figured if the weather turned wet he could always bunk in with his horse—find a dry stall in the biggest barn on which he’d ever laid eyes. The boss’s son had joined the game—the hands seemed to have no compunction about taking his money.

Suddenly one of them spotted the kid and decided to needle him a bit. “Hey, Sonny, ya wanna play at bein’ a man why’n’t ya deal yerself in. Or maybe marbles is more yer game,” he sneered. Laughter wafted up from some of the hands. In truth, he had his rough up—didn’t see why this upstart should get the better paying job. Hell, he’d probably forgot more about breaking horses than this kid would ever know, and they hadn’t offered him the job.

“Deal yerself in—show us ya can play with the men.”

The kid ignored the jibe and the laughter, and continued to wait—to watch—finally making his move. “Room fer one more? Don’t got much stake. Might not be able ta stay more’n a round or two.” 

_Mama, I’ve been watchin’ and I figure a couple o’ these guys are pretty fair players. Boss’s son is cocky, and he shows his hand ev’ry time. Can’t feel too bad if he loses his shirt—probably got another one … or two … right handy. Guess if the other’s can’t afford ta lose they oughtn’t ta be playin’. ’Sides, they’ve got work so’s they ain’t gonna go hungry. I’ve sent ya most o’ ma pay and hope it’s helped ya some, but if I can nab this pot it should be a real help ta ya. This job won’t be lastin’ much longer, so maybe it will tide ya over ’til I find another._

He took the chair that was offered—and started to play. As the time wore on, more and more players dropped out, until there was just the kid and one other. Last hand, winner take all. And he took it, as a hush fell over the place. Then the boss’s son bellowed, “Well, if that don’t beat all. He won it fair and square. And now I think we’d better be getting’ to bed or we’ll all be in the boss’s bad books.” Turning to the kid, he slapped him on the back and declared, “Nice goin’ kid.”

Holding out his winnings, he asked, “Ya got someplace safe ya can keep this fer me?”

The young cowboy looked hard at him for a moment and then deciding, this once, against speaking his mind, took the bundle. “You bet.” _Sure ain't the trustin' kind. Does he really think someone might fleece him? Damn he’s hard to figure._

By month’s end they had the cattle separated, branded, and ready to go. They were heading south this time, toward Mexico, into new country for them. Should give them a better payoff than ever they’d had before. The kid was going with them. They still called him the kid, but somehow, no one any longer thought of him as such.

Several weeks, buckets of dust, and a few mishaps later, they reached their destination. The boss was pleased, the hands too—a nice bonus would be added to their pay, and there’d be a chance to unwind and celebrate. As the last cow was tallied and penned, the foreman asked the boss who he’d be takin’ back with him. He looked across the way and saw the kid talking with a couple of strangers, then turn and head their way.

“Thanks fer the job boss. Once I collect ma pay I’ll be on ma way.”

“Whoa. What do you mean, be on your way? I figure I’ve got lots of work yet for that horse of yours—probably find somethin’ to keep you busy too,” he chuckled. “You can come on back with us. You’ve earned yourself a permanent place with me.”

“Well, I thank ya fer that, but I’ve just made a deal ta go elsewhere. Got a bunch o’ horses ta gentle and train on a ranchero down Mexico. Keep me busy through winter—maybe longer. Won’t need ta spend money on a warmer coat.”

Somehow the boss knew what ‘made a deal’ meant to this boy. He’d said he’d do it. It was done. There’d be no changing his mind. _Damn. Should’ve said somethin’ to him days ago._

“Sorry to hear that. Was lookin’ forward to havin’ you around—for a long time to come. If ever you need it, there’s a job waitin’ for you. There’ll be a round up again come Spring.”

He reached out and shook the kid's hand, no longer surprised at the solid, sure shake he got in return. Handing him a few bills he said, “This should tide you over for the night. Meet me at the bank in the morning, I’ll be givin’ every man who’s not staying on what’s owed them then, and the rest of us will be headin’ out.”

The next morning, as the kid turned his horse and rode away the boss had an overwhelming feeling of loss—a powerful urge to ride after him and persuade him to change his mind. Shaking his head, he turned his horse and headed in the other direction, and home. _Maybe he’ll take up the offer and come back for roundup next year._

What neither of them knew—could know—was that for one of them, this had been his last roundup. 


End file.
